


Vested Interest

by Dokt0rGunn, regsregis



Series: Fully vested [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Star Wars AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-04 09:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10987995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dokt0rGunn/pseuds/Dokt0rGunn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/regsregis/pseuds/regsregis
Summary: When life practically shoves an invaluable bargaining chip the Empire has been gunning for straight into your hands, what do you do?Well, for starters, you give it a nice fat cock to hang onto.And that's how you know the Force is with you.Handsome Jack, c.a. a long long time ago, in a Galaxy far away.





	1. The saga begins

**Author's Note:**

> This is a joined effort and we will be swappig every other chapter, sooo cheerio kiddos we know y'all been thirsty for a good ole' Star Wars AU :^)

When you are a hard-working, dedicated to his craft man like Jack, you gotta learn to appreciate finer things in life. The soft thrum of engines kicked into an overdrive just before the force of the hyperjump knocks the air out of your lungs. A swig of corellian whiskey you take as you are about to put a bullet through some rebel scum’s head, strong spirit leaving you breathless. Or, a warm and eager body that squirms against yours, a sharp angle of a bent down spine and little curses breathed into the stale air of a backdoor storage room.

And that’s exactly where he is right now, the memory of a quiver running through the Siren’s hull at the touch of his fingertips still present, hard liquor burning the back of his throat and with some dumb kid tightly wrapped around his dick. 

Same kid he had bumped into earlier today, with clothes that looked a little too expensive to fool the shady clientele of a run down cantina and shifty glances stolen left and right as he moved about the patrons, his flashy if rather unimposing posture drawing Jack’s attention. 

The space of the room is suffocatingly narrow, just enough to allow for his lay to brace his arms against the wall, his own bare ass colliding with the adjacent wall when he pulls back far enough to nearly break contact. Despite the dull, washed out colour of the clothes, the material is fairly soft to the touch, grains of sand etched into it just like they are etched into every single thing on this goddamn planet and as Jack slides the hem of the kid’s shirt higher, they also stick to tattooed skin. With one hand at the boy’s hip, he forces him to slam back, snugly buried into that heat again and wrangling a strangled gasp through parted lips. That sure as hell constitutes as ‘fun’ in Jack’s books, a lone bounty hunter taking a little breather in yet another port before he’ll hop back onto his ship and fly wherever his fancy or assignments take him.

There’s plenty of time before his crew will be done refuelling and so he can take a leisure, if bruising, pace, stilling his movement momentarily to run the cold bottom of the glass he’s been nursing for a while now, over the dip to the side of the kid’s spine. Which in turn brings out an angry hiss and impatient struggling against his grip, a sideway glance tossed over one arching shoulder prompting Jack to lean down, now easily splayed over his prey and forcing him to deepen the angle with the weight of another body.

He couldn’t be bothered to remember his fuck’s name but it doesn’t matter, in a few hours he’ll be out of this place and the only thing on his mind right now is to leave a lasting impression, another nameless kid to be added to the ever-growing chain of one time lovers strewn across the galaxy. Jack, however, has made sure to leave his own name carved into hazy memories, a legacy of infamous Handsome Jack, with fingers digging harder into supple flesh and a carefree rut. _The_ Handsome Jack if you care for precision, a dashing rogue, irredeemable scoundrel and everybody’s wet dream. At least that’s the image of himself he loves to perpetuate, those unwilling to back his claim swiftly meeting their end as they were met with the barrel of his pistol.

Rough palm sliding over heaving ribs and chased with fingernails dragged over the kid’s front as well as a few filthy words seeped into one flushed ear demand attention and recognition. Only once it fully -is- on him, a thick eyebrow furrowed over a squinted deep brown eye, does he press another roll of his hips, taking a lazy sip of his whiskey and letting the taste linger on his tongue for a while. It’s as good as you’d expect to get at a seedy place such as this, but being an imported goods, it certainly wasn’t cheap and he’s all the more glad that he has managed to talk this moron into buying him the drink in the first place. 

He was the one to approach Jack first, acting as if the place belonged to him despite no one paying virtually any attention to him and clearly scoffing when -he- was made to pay for the liquor in exchange for being granted a talk with the notorious bounty hunter. Whatever favour he wanted to buy, Jack wasn’t interested, what he, however, was interested in, was the way those long legs would look like wrapped around his waist and how much, or little, work it would take to wipe the arrogance from the kid’s face. 

Turns out quite a lot since he can see it still simmering in the kid’s eyes, toned down when his hips snap forward at the right angle but sparking into a barely contained fire as he carelessly tips the glass over and lets the remaining liquid spill onto the floor.

“Asshole.”

‘Asshole’, first hissed against his lips when he had slammed the kid into the wall just outside of the bar and around the corner, was also the first thing he had paid real attention to, coming out of those soft, as he had quickly discovered, lips beside some ‘hutts’ and ‘contracts’ and ‘lost money’ that the kid rambled about previously. After that all he was interested in was getting the unnecessary layers out of the way and making himself feel at home with the dry drag of skin against skin that came with ‘barely there’ but ‘still not enough’ lube. Jack likes things that way, bordering on too rough without crossing the line, at least his line because he can’t even pretend to feign interest in his one night, or day for that matter, stand’s pleasure, as long as he can get more of those raw expressions. But besides little snarls, more fitting for a womp rat’s pup, there isn’t a single motion to stop him just like there hadn’t been when he waved the kid’s attempted business talk with clear dismissal and proposed to discuss ‘real business’ the grown up way someplace else. 

He thinks he won’t have to deal with over-clinginess once the deed is done and that also makes him consider tracking down this kid on his next visit, a mutual desire to work out some pent up frustration without strings attached. Even though the bounty hunter suspects he’ll be paying with his own money for the drinks next time.

Just to rub the proverbial salt into the wound, and with as much indifference as he’s rubbing against the raw spot inside of the trembling body, Jack lets the glass drop to the ground and shatter.

“Don’t make me force you down on your knees now, sweetcheeks.” 

His toothy grin is met with a strained growl and a more vigorous squirm, even as he moves his now free hand to tangle into dark hair to give a good yank. It’s about control and selfishly taking what he wants, his intent clearly mirrored when the kid struggles against his grip and angrily pushes back, chasing his own pleasure and trying to use Jack as much as he is being used.

A sudden, cooler breeze of air makes the kid shiver and Jack has a blaster in one hand even before his brain can even register that the door to their hiding place has been unlocked.

“Stop right there! Under the imperial law…” A projectile put right between two glossy visors effectively cuts off the rest of the accusations and a body clad in white armour topples lifelessly.

“Wait for your kriffin’ turn.” Oh but Jack hates to be interrupted, another shot sending a comm sizzling with static and out of armoured fingers of the other officer. But the damage has been done, he has attacked imperial forces, even though they were the ones to rudely stop his fun. The Empire however, does not ask questions, they only forward an execution order and the second stormtrooper is already pulling up his own rifle, a demand for immediate backup sent a second before Jack reacted. 

It’s not his first rodeo, pulling his pants up with one hand and shooting with another, second corpse quickly joining the one already cooling on the floor and he’s dashing out of the narrow space to duck behind a stack of crates. The kid is right at his heels, seemingly having deemed Jack a safer bet than a small force currently pouring into the dead end alley.

“Cease and desist! You are under arrest for harbouring a wanted criminal!”

This kid? Really? He looked more like someone whose only crime was to occasionally look the wrong way at a bantha. And since when fucking a ‘wanted criminal’ counted as harbouring? Jack’s mind is reeling with unanswered questions, even as he fires a few stray bolts into the approaching group, more of a cover fire than anything else

“Since when getting fucked by a ‘wanted criminal’ counts as harbouring!?!” The kid is already poking his head, face flushed with anger, from behind their cover and chucking a handful of pebbles at the nearest trooper, stones bouncing off harmlessly of the helmet.

It was rare or even unheard of to stumble across the imperials in the Outer Rim, even more so that they are just at the borders of the Hutt territory. Even the Emperor wasn’t dumb enough to fuck with them, although, judging by the scant information Jack has bothered to pick from the explanation offered to him previously, this kid certainly was. Now, getting on the Hutts’ bad side is one thing, getting on the Empire’s even worse side, another, but not being aware of it is a completely new level of stupid and right now he has to tug this idiot down when a projectile whizzes just pass his fuzzy head.

“Make yourself fucking useful kiddo if you want out!” There is a frantic look of panic in, as he notices with idle interest, two-toned eyes but the bounty hunter quickly loses sight of them as he leans over the cover to pepper their attackers with a couple of glancing shots in hopes of getting someone. Some decision made, the kid scrambles on his knees, darting to the left and towards the rifle dropped by one of the dead stormtroopers, a stray shot tearing a hole in the ground and making him stumble as one hand desperately reaches for the weapon.

That’s when Jack sees it, almost missing it at the first glance and then almost chalking it up to the heat of the moment at the second one, but the rifle, a couple of inches away from wiggling fingers, wavers and in the split of the second, closes the distance, snapping right into awaiting hands.

With little interest, he gets one of the troopers that sneakily tried to get closer, a plasma projectile turning the pristine white of the chest pieces into a charred bend of metal.

With great interest however, he’s letting his would-be lay crawl back behind cover and with uncharacteristic care, Jack extends one arm to offer protection.

The boy is right back at his side, clutching the weapon to his chest and fumbling with the safety lock with even less expertise and finesse than Jack would have given him the credit after having watched him deftly unclasp the complicated buckle of his belt. To each their own he supposes, some are better at bending the fate to their will, with a generous helping of well aimed shots, and some are better at -just- bending down. Jack likes to think he’s equally good at both, the man way too preoccupied with forging his larger than life reputation to spare a thought for others.

And sometimes, it just so happens that some are really good at finding themselves in the right place at the right time to witness a little miracle of the galaxy’s most cherished secret. Jack also likes to think he belongs to this category as well.

Oh that’s just glorious, because this right here, this thing clumsily trying to be helpful, is probably worth its weight in credits, the Empire furiously scourging every corner of the galaxy in search of kids attuned to the Force. Jack doesn’t know what they need them for and frankly, he doesn’t care but he has been dragged into this mess and he was never the one to turn down any potential profit.

And a potential profit calls for a grander scale of destruction, a thermal imploder fished out of his pocket and yet another of his trademark grins curls the corners of his lips.

“Hey kiddo, wanna lob something better than those pebbles?”

 

* * *

The explosion rattles the nearby buildings but he’s up on his feet and dragging the useless weight, now clinging to his side, even before the dust has a chance to settle. And here he pegged the boy for more interested in adrenaline than cuddles. One last shot makes the remaining trooper one with the Force and Jack turns the corner to head for the spaceport, a few TIE fighters already up in the air above their heads. With his pistol still brandished in one hand, he turns his own comm on.

“Nisha! Prep the engines, we’re lifting off earlier!” 

_’And I’m bringing a passenger on board’_ Jack thinks, and then he also thinks that ‘a passenger’ is an overstatement. What he’s bringing, is in fact, cargo.

* * *

 

Up and over a stack crates, down a narrow street and past the outraged crowd, they are making their way to the landing dock C, ducking their heads when a small contingent of stormtroopers brushes past them and his grip on the kid’s shoulder doesn’t relent for a second, words of protest completely dismissed along the way.

His fist slams into the security lock, door leading into the dock closing with a hissed whizz of decompressing air. This time, Jack’s grip eases back before his hand returns to pat the abused shoulder in an overly friendly manner. Before them, bathed in the last rays of the slowly setting twin suns, stands his pride. And prejudice.

“So here’s the deal kiddo, because of you, I accidentally shot one of those idiots and now the Empire will be riding my ass, so you owe me one.”

“Because of me? I’ve been shot at just because…” Whatever other complaints there might be, they are stifled when a broad hand presses over those stupidly talkative mouth and Jack hisses a shush between bared teeth and into the kid’s ear.

“Can it. You are now in as much trouble as am I. So take a deep breath and admire the beauty before you.”

His pride, the black and yellow paint job making the cruiser stand out amongst the unimpressive little ships preferred by the bounty hunters lot. Her reputation usually preceded the arrival of the sleek shape, now braced on a slender tripod, proudly tipping her nose up and with the extra defense systems at full ready either side of the main hull, turrets idly pointing to the sky. They manufactured this model years before the fall of the Republic and spare parts are hard to come by these days but Jack wouldn’t swap this beauty even for the latest model plastered on the billboards all over Coruscant. She’s lethal, nimble and in the right hands, able to outmaneuver and outrun any danger.

His prejudice because no one dared to say a single unfavourable word about his love and lived to tell the tale. Even though a bundle of tangled cables billowed from the open hangar trap door, despite the perpetually crooked receivers and the added bulk of turbolaser cannons that have seen better days, and certainly in spite of the slanted name painted just above the cockpit. She’s also hella banged and strung together from other ships’ parts, sometimes barely holding together when the busted conversion modules creaked in protest as the overclocked systems pushed more power through them than they were meant to withstand.

“The Hyperion Siren.” Jack takes a step away from the kid, carelessly backing towards the open hatch with his arms invitingly spread to his sides and a wicked grin on his narrow lips. “Take it or leave it kiddo, heard you and the hutts had a little falling out so here’s your way out.” 

_’And a way in for me, back into the Empire’s good graces and into the luxury of a hefty reward._


	2. Come Fly With Me

"Take it or leave it kiddo, heard you and the hutts had a little falling out so here’s your way out.”

Rhys gaped at the open hatch for a moment before closing his mouth with a firm clack as his teeth met.

Who did this guy think he was? Blaming Rhys for this whole debacle. Alright, so he was relatively certain the man was some bigshot bounty hunter, the name Jack even sounded familiar, but really he couldn't just go around shushing people.

While it certainly was true that Rhys _may have_ possibly lost a case of nova crystals that belonged to Vasquez the Hutt; and it was true that the Imps seemed awfully interested in shooting him, although he was fairly certain he could blame the bounty hunter for that; and yes alright he did hate Tatooine, and Jack was very attractive for a complete asshole...

So actually now that he thought about it he couldn't think of a single reason to say no.

Jack was staring at him like he was very dumb and Rhys realized he'd just been standing there frozen in place while Imperials searched for them nearby. Scrambling forward with a brisk nod he watched as Jack's sharp grin returned and the man started closing off the ship's hatch behind Rhys.

"Tim get moving," Jack shouted while rounding a corner.

Hurrying to keep up Rhys didn't notice a rectangular droid wheeling down the hall and was consequently bowled over by it. The long screeching noise that followed had Rhys clasping his hands over his ears.

Jack turned around obviously annoyed and kicked the droid over, "shut up you useless trash can," reaching down he more dragged than helped Rhys back to his feet and then proceeded to pull him down the hall.  
  
The bounty hunter was definitely going to leave a bruise, and not in the way Rhys had been hoping for only minutes ago.

They rounded another corner into what looked like the central area for the crew to gather and Jack pushed him towards a seat, "you ever been on a ship kiddo?"

"Of course I have," alright, so not really, it had admittedly been a souped up skyhopper one of the local moisture farmer's kids had gotten ahold of, but how different could a space ship be?

Jack just chuckled, "better buckle up."

For a moment Rhys sincerely considered ignoring the man's suggestion, but the first lurch of the ship starting its ascent rapidly changed his mind.

Jack gave him a quick once over before briskly imparting instructions to "stay put." The man then turned on one heel and left the room shouting for someone called “Wilhelm” to “get his ass down to the engine room.”

There was another lurch and Rhys started feeling like his stomach wasn’t quite keeping up with the rest of him. Space flight was a lot less thrilling and a lot more uncomfortable than he'd anticipated.

A few moments later a woman in red durasteel armor with an expression that suggested she'd never smiled in her entire life entered the room at a brisk pace only to stop dead in her tracks.

"I assume Jack is aware you're here?" her voice was unyielding.

"That, or I'm a karking terrible stow away," Rhys pointed out with a sarcastic tilt of his lips.

The woman frowned at him as if trying to decide whether or not to shoot him, why did he have to mouth everyone off?

Thankfully what he had been certain was an impending execution was halted when the same droid from before came spinning into the the room with another awful screeching noise. Rhys was pretty sure the droid's voice modulator must be broken. He'd heard enough droids make similar noises while being dismantled for the amusement of Vasquez.

"Claptrap, you are supposed to be in the engine room with Wilhelm," the woman seemed exasperated.

The droid let out another screech as she shoved it towards one of the exits and then both were disappearing from view.

Another more solid lurch and suddenly Jack's voice was crackling though the ship-wide intercom, "attention crew, we've officially broken orbit and are jumping to hyperspace riiiight about, now!"

Rhys blinked, he didn't feel any different being in hyperspace, could he unbuckle now? Jack had said to stay here, but he hadn't really defined where here was. Here could mean the whole ship after all.

Unclasping his seatbelt, Rhys stood to examine his environment. There were a number of comfortable seats arranged around a small table that had both pazaak and sabacc cards magnetized to the top of it; the only other feature of note was a small bar that curved along the smooth wall of the room.

The entire bar was painted in the same yellow and black as the outside of the ship, in fact most of the furniture in the room was. It also all had more than a few chips in the paint. But then he supposed big famous bounty hunters probably didn't have a lot of time to touch up their enthusiastically coloured interior decorating.

Did all bounty hunters have colour schemes? Or just this one? Rhys momentarily entertained himself imagining a hall of big bad bounty hunters arguing over who got what colour.

He had just started contemplating going down one of the halls when the sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts.  
  
Rhys felt his eyes widen in confusion as Jack entered the room followed by a man who was his exact copy save his clothing and hair. The duplicates hair looked to be of similar length to Jack's but it was unstyled and pushed back by a pair of goggles, his clothing consisted of a brown flight suit with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"Alright kid, I guess introductions are in order for the schmucks who work for me; can't all be my level of famous after all."

His level, right, the man certainly had an ego, but Rhys still couldn't place who he was, it must have shown on his face too because Jack's copy in the flight suit chuckled, "I'm not sure he knows who you are."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jack actually looked offended at the suggestion, it was just too much.

"No he's right," Rhys placed one hand on his hip and leaned against the bar idly. It was potentially pushing his luck but frankly he felt it was unlikely the man would get half way through fucking him, drag him through town, and then invite him on board his ship only to shoot him now.

"Rancor-druck!" Jack exclaimed seeming more than slightly agitated which had Rhys immediately re-thinking his choice to admit to his ignorance, too late now, "you're telling me you've never heard of the time I chased the Crimson Lance pirates across the Maw? Or the time I caught Patricia Tannis the mad scientist of Dathomir? Or the kriffing time I held an entire sector of Florrum at turret point until they coughed up Mad Moxxi herself?"

The pieces were certainly clicking into place as he watched the man puff up his chest while gesturing violently to accent each point of his rant.

"Handsome Jack," Rhys breathed as the puzzle finally came together in his mind, and if anything the bounty hunter's expression somehow managed to become more prideful with that recognition, "I heard Moxxi gave you the slip?"

Jack's proud expression rapidly twisted into a glower, and Rhys found himself getting tugged forward none too gently as the older man wrapped his fist around the cyborg’s shirt, "she didn't escape," the words were almost a hiss, "that stupid droid let her go because it's an incompetent piece of junk!"

The younger man frowned and carefully attempted to pry Jack's hand free from his shirt, "these clothes cost a lot of money you know."

A vaguely entertained look crossed bounty hunter's face but he thankfully did let go of the shirt, Rhys found himself questioning if he ought to be offended by the other man taking amusement in his fussing. They were nice clothes, and he'd had to work really hard for them.

"I'm Jack's twin brother Tim," the copy cut in finally, a small smirk on his lips as his eyes bounced between the other two men in the room, "and I'm the Siren's pilot, not that I'm ever given the credit."

"Oh stop complaining Timmy, at least Jack let you keep Mr Squeaks-a-lot," a new voice drew Rhys' attention and he looked up to watch what he assumed was the rest of the crew arrive. The woman who had spoken wore a long jacket and had a holster on each hip; she strutted into the room like a tooka that had just caught a particularly juicy snack, "and you're lucky there, because I wouldn't have even let the rat on board."

Behind her was red durasteel lady who looked generally unimpressed with everything around her and a huge man in what Rhys recognized as Mandalorian armor.

"His name is Sir Hammerlock," Tim protested before dropping himself into one of the seats with his arms folded across his chest, "and for the thousandth time, he's a space hamster."

"He's still dinner if I catch him," coat lady responded running her tongue over her teeth, "now what's this I hear about Jack bringing his little boy-toy with him."

Rhys stiffened at the comment but decided to not deign to respond, instead taking on the miffed expression he favoured whenever someone lower ranking than him at Vasquez's palace had tried to strike up a conversation. He was not a boy-toy, he was at the very least a man-toy thank you very much.

Besides which he could earn his keep, he'd worked for the Hutts for years. Admittedly his job usually involved programming or more often slicing in order to steal data from visitors to the Hutt cartel; and okay, the nova crystal debacle had perhaps proved that field work wasn't his forte. But who didn't need a hacker sometimes? He didn't even need a datapad with him, the cybernetic implants Vasquez paid for had made sure of that.

"Kiddo this is Nisha," Jack motioned to coat lady, "the angry woman in red is Athena, and our Mandalorian friend here is Wilhelm."

"And your boy toy's name is?" Nisha asked languidly as she sat down next to Tim and then proceeded to use him as a leg rest.

Jack motioned towards him and Rhys quite suddenly realized the man did not know his name in the slightest.

Alright he was _slightly_ irritated now, especially given that rant he'd gotten for not immediately realizing who Jack was. Rhys raised one eyebrow at the bounty hunter, he certainly wasn't going to roll over and play nice that easily.

He watched as Jack's hands clenched and Tim let out a hoot of laughter, "you don't even know his name."

The bounty hunter made a noise that sounded very much like a growl, "it's not as if I learn the names of every person I bang."

"Yeah, but you usually learn them before you invite them on board," Tim chuckled.

"There were extenuating circumstances," Jack snarled, "well cupcake, what is your name, or do you prefer kid?"

"It's Rhys," the younger man said with a long suffering sigh, he'd truly considered dragging the situation on. But in the brief time he'd known the man he already wouldn't put it past him to exclusively call him kid and never ask for his name again.

Besides, it was probably better to ease up on the whole thing if he ever wanted man to finish what he'd started in that storage room; and while Rhys certainly had at least a dozen other things to worry about, he found now that the panic had passed, his half ass success at getting laid was really what was pressing on his mind.

"And why did you bring him with you?" Athena's voice it seemed was always kept at a flat vaguely irritated tone.

Jack rolled his eyes, "because we were both getting shot at by Imperials and Rhysie here wanted to come on adventure, maybe get more intimately acquainted, right cupcake?"

As much as Rhys intensely wanted to protest 'Rhysie' he had a hard time looking irritated when the same sentence had suggested the precise activity he had just been pondering. "Tatooine lost it's charm," he decided to confirm.

Nisha titled her head for a moment and then grinned, "well take a seat Rhys, you ever played pazaak or you more of a sabacc man?"

Rhys frowned, what kind of person who worked for the Hutt cartel hadn't played pazaak or sabacc? That being said, he wasn't very good at either game, he tended to lack the required patience. He was also not dumb enough that he didn't know what someone trying to get his money looked like. Well, he wasn't dumb enough anymore, if he was being entirely honest it had been a hard learned lesson.

"Not much for either one," he responded with a shrug, "besides I have an entire ten wupiupi to my name right now."

Nisha laughed and leaned back, "smarter than you look I guess."

His frown only made her laugh harder and much to Rhys' irritation both Jack and Wilhelm joined in. The Mandalorian hadn't said a word up until that point, but Rhys found his voice sounded precisely as he might have imagined it.

Tim finally interrupted the laughter after it had gone on much too long in Rhys' opinion, "alright Nisha, come on leave the kid alone and deal the sabacc cards already."

Wilhelm and Athena also slid into place around the table the former grinning, and the latter with an expression that could melt carbonite.

"This time if I catch any of you _chakaar_ cheating I'll show you why no one cheats at cards on Mandalore," Wilhelm's voice rumbled.

"I have never cheated in my entire life," Tim declared with an obvious mocking tone, "Nisha, Athena?"

"Don't need to cheat when you're as good as me," Nisha said with a grin.

Athena merely raised one eyebrow, "ah, so the card in your boot is for luck then?"

"Come on pumpkin," Jack said latching onto his arm to pull him away from the group, "I'll give you a tour of the most beautiful ship in the galaxy."

Much to Rhys' surprise the man actually took him on a tour of the cruiser, he'd honestly expected to be dragged off into the nearest available spot to fuck.

But no, Jack actually showed him around, everything from the crew's bunks to the mess hall; the bounty hunter took great pride in showing off the ship's engine and hyperdrive as though they were made of gold. The cyborg to be entirely honest knew next to nothing about ships, so he settled on smiling convincingly and making impressed noises whenever Jack turned to look at him. It was a skill one had to perfect while working for the Hutts, or at least it was if you didn't want to be killed in some particularly gruesome but undoubtedly entertaining manner.

Rhys however did not have to fake anything at all when they reached the cockpit and he finally saw the rush of light outside the viewport as they sped past stars.

"Never seen hyperspace I take it?" Jack asked from behind him obviously amused, "well you get the best view of it to ever exist, seen it from plenty of ships, but the Siren is the best."

Normally Rhys would posture, act as though it was nothing special, or at least lie about this being the first time he'd seen something, but for once he found himself well and truly speechless.

Obviously pleased Jack dropped himself into one of the seats and motioned for Rhys to do the same. The cyborg watched the show the universe seemed to be putting on for them in awe, so this was what the spacers were always on about.

When he was finally able to tear his sight away from the view he found Jack was no longer sitting and had moved to loom over him.

"So," Jack smirked, "about that getting to know each other thing."

Rhys smiled in response leaning forward, "what about it?"

The bounty hunter snorted, "oh, don't even try that hard to get routine now sweetcheeks," one rough hand dragged the younger man up by his chin, "I've already seen you bent over for me once."

As Jack shoved him back against the far wall of the cockpit Rhys could already feel his brain turning to mush with want, just barely managing to grasp onto that same word from earlier "asshole."

A wild electronic screech filled the room and Rhys tore his attention from Jack with no small amount of irritation, the box shaped droid from earlier was at the entrance to the cockpit.

A shuffle of footsteps quickly followed and Rhys groaned with frustration as Tim stuck his head around the corner, "seriously Jack, not in the kriffing cockpit."

"It's my cockpit," Jack pointed out unapologetically.

Tim rolled his eyes and plucked up a set of three hidden sabacc cards from the seam of the nearest seat, "yup, but if you ever want me to pilot your ship again, not in the cockpit."

The CL4P-TP droid let out another screeching noise and wheeled in a circle, it's tiny arms waving at Tim as though seeking some sort of approval.

The pilot frowned slightly and then sighed, "yeah, yeah - alright you did okay for once I guess," the man looked like it actually pained him to give the little droid any praise at all, "now come on Jack, looks like the tours all done right?"

Jack scowled and shoved Tim none too gently on his way past, "I'm telling Nisha where you stash all your cheat cards."

"Jack come on, what kind of a brother are you to let me starve? I need those winnings!"

"I need to get laid," Jack growled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typed a thing! It only took me forever! Super excited about this project and getting to work with regsregis on this, hope all of you are excited too! ❤


	3. Ups and downs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving onto the whole space adventure stuff!

“Alright handsome, time to fess up.”

They corner him in the server room, door sliding shut with a whizz and the lock’s control turns red. Between the four of them, Wilhelm barely able to squeeze into the narrow room, Athena’s intimidating aura taking up far more space than one would give the lean woman credit, it’s left to Jack and Nisha to wedge their respective egos in between them. He wins on the ego grounds but she still shoves him against the nearest wall, effectively crowding him. 

“Jack, you’re not one for saving damsels in distress.”

Any lesser man would have shrunk under such scrutiny but Jack is no ordinary man and so instead, he metaphorically grows twice fold, knowing damn well they are going to just -love- what he has to tell them.

“But what if I told you said damsel was worth his weight in credits?” He moves to deftly sling his arm over Nisha’s shoulder and follows a wide gesture of his hand with a devilish smirk. “What we have on board, dearest friends, is a legitimate force user… one completely unaware of this fact!” Coupled with a fine piece of ass, but this, he’ll keep to himself. They have eyes eyes, sometimes less than two, no need to rub his latest almost-conquest into their faces. “I say we get in touch with our good old buddy Colonel Zarepdon to arrange for a trade…”

“...and the Empire will be more than willing to pay a hefty price for the kid.” Wilhelm finishes his slightly straying line of thoughts and Jack can virtually see credit signs shining behind the trio’s eyes. Oh but he has their interest now. 

“How should you know?” Ah, Athena, ever the killjoy, even though she still has that vaguely less annoyed and almost, almost dreamy look on her face, one which showed up whenever conversation strayed towards money.

“Saw him use it, subconsciously I assume, which would also explain why he had Imperials on his ass. Moron’s not entirely subtle so he must have had someone from that Hutt of his’ palace sell him out.” His grip on Nisha only tightens when she elbows him with a slight dose of disdain. “Luck’s in our favour this time!”

“Ain’t such thing as luck…” Athena can grump as much as she likes but they all know the whole crew is on board with his idea.

“Then how would you explain -this-?” He has both of his thumbs pointing towards his chest and a wicked smile on his lips, the usual posturing met with a roar of laughter from Wilhelm. He thinks he likes the man best out of the whole group.

* * *

Casually leaning against the bar, Jack tilts one eyebrow just that little bit as nearly everybody’s eyes follow the sharp angle of a small rubber ball he lazily chucks forwards. They keep pretending to be busy with their respective work, disassembling weapons for maintenance, shuffling a deck of cards or polishing the chassis of Claptrap’s core. One, which by now, has taken on a nearly unearthly shine and the droid protests at the rough treatment with a series of disgruntled buzzes.

The ball bounces against the ground, off the nearest wall and springs back into his hands. He knows they will want some kind of proof of his words and so on the next toss, he aims a little bit to the left, ball catching the only person ostentatiously ignoring him in the side of one fuzzy head. Rhys, so far feigning dignified disinterest in his little game, spins around from his place at the table where he was pouring over some boring datapads containing Claptrap’s schematics. What possible interest the man could have in those, Jack cannot tell.

“Just what the hell is your problem!?” Rhys looks like -fun-, with his flushed face and sharply narrowed eyebrows. So it seems the ball bouncing with soft, repetitive thuds around the room for the past half an hour did manage to get on his nerves. And -fun- in Jack’s books, usually meant bloodshed, driving someone mad or sticking his dick somewhere inappropriate. He’ll get to that last part in a bit.

“Ah, apologies babycakes, my hand must have… slipped.” 

The ball whisks just past the man’s ear with unnecessary force, and follows the previous course, against the ground, off the wall and back into Jack’s hands. Tim hides his smirk behind the cards, Athena ducks her head lower over the fumbling droid and Nisha jams the extra heat sink back into place with a metallic click.

Once he’s sure one brown and one cybernetic blue eye aren’t drilling holes into his face anymore, Jack takes a steady aim, the whole room holding their collective breath, and flings the ball.

It nearly reaches its distracted target but there is a hand coming up to swat it with throwaway annoyance. Rhys misses, the whole crew sees it, his fingers almost grazing the rubber ball and yet it still flies in the opposite direction to harmlessly bounce against the edge of the bar. 

There is a ruckus where they all scramble to their feet and scatter in all kinds of directions, everyone suddenly remembering that they have places to be and things to do. Nisha brushes just past him with a delighted chuckle and then leaves him to deal with a fuming man who’s currently stomping in his direction with a frown on his face and looks that could kill. Perhaps one day they really could, but he doubts nurturing some stray’s abilities is anywhere close the Emperor’s intentions

* * *

Wilhelm always told him that the most heat escaped through the head, and the man usually followed that statement by fitting the beanie more snugly over his ears. Right now however, Jack is willing to completely disregard the warning in favour of a firm belief that the most heat seemed to be escaping through his freezing balls. 

The temperature on the lower deck had to be kept fairly low in order to stop the hyperdrive generator from constantly overheating, the machine currently emitting a warm tingle against one of his palms as he leans closer into the body boxed between him and the generator. 

There are warm hands wandering over the small of his back, chill raising goosebumps over the exposed skin and Jack hides the shiver running up his spine in a growl pressed into the crook of Rhys’ neck. The younger man seemed to be just as desperate as Jack, having followed the come-hither wag of his finger, and then, the man himself, deeper into the ship. 

And so here they are, fumbling with each other’s clothing, both refusing to remove more than it is necessary, and fighting to stay pressed flush in order to keep the warmth between them.  
He bites and Rhys tugs at his hair.  
Jack slots their lips together and shoves his tongue into the younger man’s lips.  
Rhys shoves one hand down the front of his trousers and slots their bodies all the closer. 

Rough tugs to the quickly filling out flesh wring a couple of hissed curses before his patience runs out, and he moves the other man about till his chest is pressed flush against the generator. Jack quickly works two pairs of pants down to bundle about their knees, working a packet of lube open and then working his fingers inside of the other man. However, it seems like it wasn’t only Jack’s patience that has ran out as there are hands insistently chasing his away, and then, one of them moves to fist around the base of his dick and the other into the front of his clothes.

“Come on asshole, I can handle myself if you go slow.”

‘Slow’ doesn’t really agree with him on most occasions but yeah, he can do that, dripping the remaining liquid over his hard flesh and then easing himself in. Slow is how he goes, revelling in the tightness beginning to wrap around one inch after another until he’s buried to the hilt, thumb moving to rub over the puckered muscles trying to pull him deeper.

“That’s right cupcake…” Jack likes to claim things as his own, letting a string of spit dribble from his lips and then smearing it over the point where his own flesh disappeared inside of the other man, “...bend lower for daddy, nice and tight baby.”

That gets him a hiss and a heel angrily digging into the tip of his boot and as he hikes the other man’s shirt higher to press the flat of his palm over the arching spine, Rhys lets out another sneer of protest against the cool air kissing his heated skin. The time for slow is over, enough, in his opinion, time to adjust given and Jack edges back, just a fraction, but enough to aim for a different angle before he slams back, hips meeting the curve of the other man’s ass and prompting a strained growl. He has to kick Rhys’ feet further apart to make the height difference more easily manageable and then there is nothing stopping him from happily pounding into the willing body now quivering with every roll of his hips and eagerly pushing back.

A particularly rough thrust sends the younger man scrambling for purchase, fingers slotting into the crevices of the generator and yanking at them when Jack withdraws, tugging the other with hands against his midsection. Rhys’ face bumps into the hard metal casing and he clings all the tighter to his only point of support, little groans forced out of him just as he’s forcing metallic groans out of the drive with every frantic snap of Jack’s hips. 

He can almost taste the quickly approaching release, tightness setting in his throat, all muscles pulled taut, with a white noise rumbling in his ears and then a violent shake rattles through his whole body.

Coming to a complete still, Jack cracks one eye open, sucking in shallow breaths through parted lips and his gaze meets a confused if rather hazy glance shot over Rhys’ shoulder. 

“Don’t tell me you’re a minute man…” It’s growled and he’s about to tell this mouthy shit off when another sensation catches up with him, he’s still wound up pretty tight, straining muscles not having relaxed and not ‘just yet’, rather just ‘not yet’. Fuck, he’s not done here, still hard and still panting. It wasn’t an orgasm that shook him up like that. The lights turn to a warning red as another explosion makes the Siren jump and as his eyes shoot up towards the source of the light, brain still struggling to piece everything together, a panicked voice cracks through the ship-wide comm.

“Capitan!”

* * *

 

Jack’s still fumbling to fasten his belt more securely around his hips when he finally reaches the cockpit, his unsteady feet and the explosions sending the ship lurching left and right making him stumble every now and then despite the artificial gravity.

“Talk to me Tim Tams.” 

“We’ve suddenly dropped out of hyperspace… the read-out of the ship’s diagnostics says we have a malfunctioning hyperdrive generator…” Jack’s eyes briefly skim over the screen displaying lines of code and a giant, flashing warning sign but he’s only pretending to be reading it. On the inside, the bounty hunter makes a cold, hard and calculated decision to forfeit his cock’s needs and settle for a lower reward the Empire offered for delivering -dead- force users. He slinks into the unoccupied co-pilot’s seat and brings up more screens streaming the ship’s details.

“Have Wilhelm fix this kriffin’ mess!” But that still didn’t explain the tremors running through the ship, his attention finally snapping to the window gazing into the open space. And the open space gazes back with a multitude of distant bursts, the greens and reds and brilliant whites of laser projectiles and explosions, the silky darkness all lit up like a pretty mercenary day’s firework show. Majestic dreadnoughts slide with deceptive ease across the battlefield, surrounded by buzzing TIE-fighters chasing in tight formations after squadrons of Y-wings. It seems like a minor skirmish, the largest ship nothing bigger than an assault-class destroyer but it still dwarfed the Siren with its sheer bulk. 

“The lovebirds are at it again… With the propulsion systems rebooting after the jump we are slowly drifting towards the center of it Jack, there is no way our shields will hold up if they center their fire on us.“ Timothy sounds solemn and his brother can only share a mirrored sigh and the heaviness of the gut-twisting realization. The ship produces a few feeble grunts when the pilot tries to jump-start it into full mobility but his efforts yield no results.

A flock of imperial chasers dashes after a couple rebel fighters skirting over the edge of the battlefield and stray shots bounce off of the Siren’s hull sending the ship into a tumble of violent jerks. The pilot’s fingers dance with practiced familiarity over the command dashboard, changing the shields refresh rate and trying to alter their crash collision course with weak landing thrusters but that doesn’t seem to work all that well, the nose of their ship still pointing towards the nearest destroyer and steadily closing the distance. 

“Claptrap! Start broadcasting neutrality signals over the Rebel’s IFF channels and an allied one over Imperial! Move it you goddamn can of Sarlacc waste!”

That’s exactly the moment the very reason behind this whole mess decides to stick his stupid head inside of the cockpit, still somewhat red in the face and with hair falling out of place.

“Jack? What’s going… Woah!”

“Get the fuck out of here kiddo before I space you so you can get a better look.” His angry growls are only met with a defiant stare once the kid finally tears his eyes from the front window.

“I’ll have you both know that the big guy is trying to fix the big bulky stuff in the engine room with a sonic wrench! And I don’t think sonic wrenches were meant to be used like that.” Rhys crosses both of his arms over his chest but falters when it’s Tim, of all people, who sends him a vicious glare.

“We know! That’s how Wil works. Now, OUT!”

“Tim, how long till the systems are operational?”

“Uhh.. T minus 90 seconds but if we don’t get the hyperdrive up and running we are still stuck here.”

Okay, alright, okay, they can do that, that’s fine, no biggie. Jack’s voice rolls through the ship’s corridors, urging Nisha and Athena to man the non-automatic gunnery turrets. 

“Do not engage unless they start a fight first!”

It’s T minus 60 when they are finally caught in the crossfire, Athena taking out the rebel X-wing that dared to stray too close and her trigger-happiness has the remains of the squadron on their ass. A glancing shot blows off both of the long range communication antennae and so their broadcasting signal dies out amongst the utter mayhem. Through static, Wilhelm’s voice pushes, dejected tones colouring his words.

“Sorry cap’n, there ain’t much I can do right now, the generator was beggin’ for a couple spare parts for the past month and now that someone has sabotaged it…” oh Jack knows damn well who fucking ‘sabotaged’ it, “the casing gave out and an errant spark fried some of the circuitry… wanna have me have a lil’ talk with our special boy as to why he was skulking about the engine room?”

“No.” The bounty hunter’s voice is clipped and tight around the edges, eyes squinting in response to the incredulous huff coming from his brother. 

“Can’t believe you sometimes, Jack…” 

“You gotta believe -in- something cupcake, why not your beloved brother? Anyway, plot the course for when we can get the fuck out of here.”

* * *

 

When all thrusters come back online, the Siren is dented in more places than Jack is willing to acknowledge, the automated defense systems sent nearly into an overdrive as they try to keep up with a horde of smaller ships darting around them and trying to wear them down with shots peppered along the rear. 

“A’ight fuckers!” Jack’s cheerful words make the speakers crack with a series of metallic hisses, “Strap in, we’re going in dry, give ‘em hell ladies!”

Tim sends the ship into a nosedive, ducking under the approaching dreadnaught and barrel-rolls through a V-shaped formation of X-wings, an absolutely delighted grin back on his face as he finally is allowed to do what he’s best at. The Hyperion Siren was intended to be a huntress, the best of her kind, agile but fragile and as they make their way back towards the edges of the gradually simmering down battlefield, stray debris keeps bumping into the hull, making the shields flicker with weariness. 

The inter-ship comm nearly sizzles with a playful, on Nisha’s side, and grumpy, on Athena’s, banter as the two women keep bickering and boasting about who has more kills. 

They pound one of the Rebel’s flagships with fire before Tim swiftly re-mapped their nearly ballistic course, forward thrusters’ lights flickering out as the braking systems kicked in and the TIE-fighters chasing them whizz just past them, now effectively put within their direct shooting range, quickly turned into smoking pieces of charred metal left after bright explosions.

Ah, nothing like a little bit of mayhem to keep the Siren’s crew’s spirits up, capitan included.

“Stellar performance people!”


	4. On the Dodge

Rhys was not pouting. That was absolutely not a thing he was doing. He was a grown man, and grown men definitely didn't hide and pout. He was just thinking very hard about how unfair all of this was.   
  
Very, very, hard.   
  
He couldn't help but feel blamed for the incident in the engine room, and frankly Jack was at least as much at fault. Maybe more seeing as perhaps the Captain of the ship should have known better than to attempt fucking him against important components of the ship.   
  
At least it sounded as though they were out of danger now, although Rhys didn't feel particularly inclined to go look. He'd found a corner of the cargo hold that seemed relatively unoccupied and had settled on staying safely tucked away until everyone else on the vessel stopped being such assholes.   
  
Maybe it was time to find out a little bit more about these people, he hadn't done any real nosing around just yet, and really he ought to if he was even considering staying with them beyond the next place they stopped. It was frankly clumsy that he hadn't. Normally with the Hutts if he had to deal with people he thoroughly researched them and sliced through to any pertinent data he could get his hands on.   
  
Currently this crew was a series of blanks excluding some frankly ridiculous stories he'd heard about the adventures of Handsome Jack.   
  
That being said it was apparently going to be a greater issue than Rhys had anticipated, the ship's computers had no accessible datalinks. Great. That meant hardwiring himself in, and if he had to guess, Jack probably would not be happy if he found Rhys messing around with anything.   
  
The slicer glanced up in time to watch the CL4P-TP unit trundle into the room, a small bundle of flimsiplast clutched in its little arms. The droid seemed almost hesitant before finally wheeling closer and holding them out with a soft but still horribly distorted noise.   
  
Sighing Rhys reached out to accept them and quickly realized it was the schematics he'd left sitting in the crew lounge, "just want to be able to talk huh Claptrap?"   
  
The droid made another noise and Rhys took it to be an affirmative.   
  
"Well, I'm gonna need some parts," he hummed, "so I'll look around when we stop someplace."   
  
The droid squawked enthusiastically and tiny metal arms were wrapped around one dangling leg. It was kind of cute really.   
  
"Rhys?" Jack's voice, "listen kid I know you're in the cargo hold, the ship has internal sensors, so you may as well stop this sulking crap."   
  
"I'm not sulking," Rhys informed him crisply while leaning back, "I'm reading."   
  
"You're reading while we're in the middle of a dog fight?"   
  
Rhys sniffed haughtily, "seemed like the preferable option to being spaced."   
  
There was a low grumble and then Jack stalked around the cargo blocking his view with a glower that made the man's sharp features seem that much more angular. Claptrap made a static filled panicked noise and then rapidly wheeled from the room antenna twitching wildly as the droid moved.   
  
"Listen kiddo, when there's a kriffing space battle, and it's your fault I have to deal with it in the first place, it's really not the time to come complain to me about my mechanic."   
  
Rhys' eyes narrowed, "my fault?"   
  
Jack stalked closer, "yes you pompous little laserbrain, your fault."   
  
The man halted less than an inch away and Rhys scowled, "you're the one who dragged me into your engine room and chose to fuck me against your expensive and apparently delicate machinery _Captain_ , I think that pretty definitively makes it your fault."   
  
The bounty hunter made an aggravated sound and Rhys found large hands pressing him backwards by the throat, the movement sending flimsyplast sheets clattering to the ground. Well, that was it, he'd made his last mistake, he was going to die, strangled in a cargo hold. At least he'd made it off Tatooine.   
  
After a moment the slicer realized Jack hadn't actually tightened his hold, some sort of internal conflict busy chasing itself across the older man's features.   
  
Realizing he wasn't about to die also made Rhys remember just how goddamned horny he was, and now here was this attractive douchebag, both the cause and potential solution to his problems, practically straddling him across some cargo.   
  
Bucking his hips up into the other man he ground forward to the best of his abilities pinned down as his was, hands coming forward to grip onto the collar of the man's jacket.   
  
Jack reared back for a moment surprise momentarily joining the mix of emotions on his face before the entire thing quickly turned into a nasty smirk, "are you into this pumpkin?" The older man emphasizing 'this' by running one rough finger along Rhys' throat, "you are aren't you?"   
  
Letting out an irritated noise Rhys moved one of his hands up into the bounty hunters hair and yanked him none too gently down towards his own mouth.   
  
They didn't get much further however as Tim's voice played over the intercom, "we're docking with Helios now Jack, better get your ass up here."   
  
Rhys groaned, and Jack actually hit the lid of the crate the were on top of; a heavy huff at his throat later and the man was pulling back.   
  
"Don't wander far on Helios," Jack snarled, "we're finishing this."   


* * *

  
Helios seemed to have every life form imaginable wandering it's streets, Rhys had heard of it of course, a huge lawless space station in the far outer rim; frequented by vagabonds of all types. 'You can find anything on Helios', or so the spacers back on Tatooine always said. One once told the cyborg a very disturbing story about a clan of flesh eating lunatics living in the sewage system. Probably just nonsense to scare him, or so he hoped.   
  
Rhys loitered by the ship for the first little while, carefully observing the ebb and flow around him, getting adjusted to a new local; also known as scanning for accessible bank accounts, or any open datalinks. After all information could be worth just as much as money.   
  
He briefly wondered if Jack, (a man who spent his time hunting down criminals) would take issue with this particular choice before deciding it wouldn't matter as long as he never got caught. Besides, it was for a good cause, he needed to build a new voice modulator, it basically wasn't even _really_ theft, it was just involuntary donation to a charity.   
  
The sound of boots on the boarding ramp had Rhys turning his head, some small sense at the back of his head telling him it was Nisha. Sure enough well worn boots and the bottom of a long coat quickly came into view and Rhys leaned back against one of the Siren's landing gears, "heading out?"   
  
Nisha turned her head and smiled, "hells yes kiddo, the best casino in the outer rim is on Helios, chalk full of the worst scum of the galaxy," her smile widened to a devilish grin, "no better people to ruin in a card game and then beat bloody in a bar fight."   
  
"Casino huh?" Rhys smirked, "mind if I tag along?"   
  
"Got a sudden hankering to gamble?" the woman raised one eyebrow while motioning for him to follow, "cause you know they won't let you touch any of the card games with that hardware you've stuck in your head."   
  
"Oh no," he had no interest in gambling even if cyborgs weren't generally viewed with suspicion at any table, what he was interested in was the clientele. Casinos were an excellent place to _acquire_ money from the patrons, "I just could use a drink."   
  
Nisha shrugged and straightened her hat, "well alright then."   
  
The casino they arrived at was large and brightly coloured, lights flickering in every direction, large holo screens currently showing a swoop race. Nisha made an immediate beeline towards a sabacc table, Rhys taking the opportunity to separate and settle in the lounge at one of the bar stools.   
  
He was already scanning as the Twi'lek bartender asked for his drink order. After picking out a mass produced beer from Nal Hutta that was cheap but he truly loathed Rhys went to work.   
  
Gamblers were easy marks for several reasons, first of all they were used to being scammed, the addicts often didn't notice because they assumed they'd gambled it away, or alternatively no one believed them anyways because they were addicted to gambling. Easy. That and if you skimmed a little here and a little there the amounts were so small it was never worth investigation.   
  
He was having a rather successful go at it and was nearly ready to go looking for voice modulator parts when a trickle of fear ran up his spine. Something was wrong.   
  
Turning his head slightly Rhys cursed under his breath as he recognized the man lurking at the other side of the bar. Standing as casually as possible the cyborg headed towards the door.   
  
Too slow.   
  
A hand landed on his shoulder and Rhys winced as he looked up in the face of a particular blond and generally unpleasant Black Sun member.   
  
"Heeeey August," Rhys did his best to sound casual, "didn't see you there, how's your Mom?"   
  
"Still pissed about that spice shipment that the Hutts somehow found right after you got drunk with me Rhys," the hand that was clamped over his shoulder squeezed.   
  
"I had nothing to do with that," the slicer put on his very best offended voice, "I would never do something like that."   
  
August sighed shaking his head, "oh no, don't start Rhys, everyone knows you worked for the Hutt Cartel now; Vasquez put a bounty out on you and surprise, surprise, when you scroll down this poster here, he's added a slicer handle to the other information."   
  
Rhys frowned at the poster, the stupid slug was offering the ludicrously low bounty of twelve truguts for Rhys' return to him alive, he almost felt like he should be offended. But the worst part of the whole thing by far was the known alias section, there it was, listed plain as day, _slicer handle - 'ATLA5_W1NZ'_ ; he was screwed. He was so, so, screwed.   
  
"Ya know," August continued, "our techs say the slicer who broke into our system left a calling card. Just so happens the names match up."   
  
Oh that was bad. That was really bad. Why did he have to be so goddamn arrogant? He didn't have to sign his work, could have slipped in and left without a hint, but it had been so tempting to rub it in. Panic swelled in his gut and Rhys' eyes darted left and right, August had more Black Sun member's with him for sure, no way the mummy's boy was out all alone, Valerie didn't trust him that much.   
  
"Oh and don't worry Rhys, that Hutt isn't offering enough to waste the fuel, but you are gonna pay your debt, one way or another."   
  
Rhys sucked in a deep breath, that was not good, that was actually probably worse than if Vasquez got a hold of him. Valerie wasn't exactly known for her mercy. In fact she was generally known as the Black Sun underboss with the least mercy.   
  
"Hey nerf-herder, mind if I cut in?" Nisha's fist connected with the side of August's face and the man collapsed to the ground knocking over a table that two Trandoshans had been sitting at.   
  
Rhys gaped, he couldn't help it, there was no way she knew who she'd just punched, because if she had, he was fairly confident she wouldn't have punched him. Well nothing for it now, looking up to see four people start moving towards them Rhys tapped Nisha on the arm, "we might want to go."   
  
The woman shrugged, "I did say I wanted a bar fight, good job finding me one kid."   
  
So she was insane. Alright, that did explain everything quite clearly.   
  
What started as a single thrown punch grew into a full-fledged bar brawl in a matter of seconds as barely ignored grievances simmered to the surface across the casino. It wasn't the first time Rhys had seen something like this, it was honestly pretty common on Tatooine, he had just never been the cause of one before.   
  
His general tactic in these situations was to escape, actual fist fights never having been his forte. But Nisha had just knocked out August for him, and therefore he felt somewhat obligated to stick around.   
  
However his loyalty ran out almost immediately when he turned just in time to watch her bring one knee up into a wookiee. Alright, if she was going to fist fight wookies clearly this maniac could take care of herself.   
  
Rhys turned to try and find a clear path out of the bar only to find August, woozy looking but standing again while the other Black Sun members tried to fight off the two angry Trandoshans.   
  
"Rhys, you kriffing Hutt-spawn," August snarled, "I'm going to make you wish you never crawled out of whatever vat of filth vomited you out."   
  
Usually the cyborg was above this fighting nonsense, really it was for people with a death wish. But he was starting to get ticked off, 'hutt-spawn' was going too far, he was much too attractive to be compared to those slime encrusted worms.   
  
As the gangster stumbled closer with a nosebleed and a death glare Rhys wound up to hit the man in the face. August went flying backwards, his body crashing back into the collapsed table he'd hit the first time. The blond man let out a low groan but didn't move again.   
  
Rhys halted and examined his fist in surprise, it hadn't even hurt, clearly some of those lessons on how to throw a punch from Vasquez’s mercenaries had paid off.   
  
He didn't have long to think about it though because Nisha was grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out of the casino, "time to move kid."   
  
"What?" Rhys blinked confused, it took blaster fire barely missing his ear for him to realize the other Black Sun's had beat the Trandoshans and were now attacking them.   
  
Lucky for him Nisha seemed to know every backstreet on the station and they lost their pursuit fairly quickly. Breathing out a sigh of relief Rhys leaned against the wall, he had a stitch in his side and his breathing was ragged. Hanging out and slicing things in a Hutt's palace for most of his adult life was apparently not conducive to being great at running. If he wasn't so tall he would've been screwed.   
  
"Which way back to the ship?" he asked once he finally caught his breath.   
  
Nisha was giving him an analyzing look, "what the hell was that?"   
  
The cyborg hesitated, "a bar fight?"   
  
The woman's eyes narrowed and suddenly Rhys was getting roughly shoved backwards into a wall, "you know what I mean."   
  
Wincing in part from the pain and in part from getting caught, the man sighed before running one hand through his hair anxiously, "just an old...friend."   
  
She sighed and started walking in what he hoped was the direction of the Siren, "your friends always try to shoot you?"   
  
Letting out a nervous giggle Rhys shrugged, "it's how they show affection."   
  
He could almost hear her rolling her eyes, but Nisha didn't push further, "hurry up you scrawny twank, you're staying on the ship until we leave. That blond kid you pissed off looked ready to kill you and anyone you so much as talk to; and as much as I like shooting people we try to avoid that shavit in places we do business."   
  
Nisha spent the entire trip to the ship grumbling about how Rhys was more trouble than he was worth, doubly so when he insisted on stopping to purchase droid parts.   
  
When they arrived at the ship Nisha shoved Rhys towards the boarding ramp where he nearly collided with a disembarking Jack.   
  
"The repairs done?" she demanded.   
  
Jack cocked one eyebrow, "Wilhelm's finishing up now."   
  
"Then we should get going."   
  
Jack froze for a moment his eyes pausing very briefly on Rhys before sliding to Nisha, "bored of the casino already Nish," the man chuckled, "we'll leave in a little bit, I got plans."   
  
The woman shoved Rhys on the way past as she entered the ship obviously annoyed, "if it's with your boytoy it'll have to wait, he's got Black Sun bottom feeders after his blood for some reason."   
  
Jack didn't look impressed, in fact he looked on the edge of livid, whether that was because of Rhys causing them trouble or because the man was being cock-blocked for the fourth time this week the cyborg couldn't say, but regardless he wasn't a big fan of that expression being directed at him.   
  
"I'm uh, gonna go," a large hand wrapped around his collar and Rhys found himself yanked backwards as he tried to slip by Jack.   
  
"What the kriff did you-"   
  
A shout cut Jack short, "there he is on that boarding ramp!"   
  
"Dammit," the bounty hunter swore and shoved Rhys onto the ship, "Wilhelm those repairs had better be done because we're taking off."   
  
As the ramp closed and the ship began to lift off of the docking bay floor Rhys could see a bloody and bruised August glaring straight at him. Was it really too much to ask that he'd been trampled to death in the casino?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo - I'm inordinately proud of the 'involuntary donation to a charity' bit.
> 
> Let us know what ya think in the comments, and thanks for reading! ♡


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